


A Walk On The Wild Side

by dragonquesttbh



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Biting, Cowboy AU, Cowboy Erik, Dirty Talk, El Has a Thing for Bad Boys, Gay outlaws, I promise there is a plot, Lesbian cowboys, Luminary is Depicted as 18, M/M, Porn With Plot, Riding, Scratching, Top!Erik, Wall Sex, poc characters, trans!Sylvia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonquesttbh/pseuds/dragonquesttbh
Summary: Forced to abandon his former identity and his homeland, the elegantly coiffed– and free loving– El finds himself in the New World, plunged into the depths of the Wild, Wild West.An encounter with a tough talking, rough handling cowboy leaves him spellbound: chasing a dashing outlaw with a sultry smile.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI), Graig | Hendrik/Sylvia | Sylvando (Dragon Quest XI), Marutina | Jade/Sena | Serena (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	A Walk On The Wild Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omgitsaddyc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgitsaddyc/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Addy!! I lub you and I hope you lub cowboy <33 
> 
> **historical notes**  
>  \- The official cowboy era is generally agreed to be 1865-1895  
> \- El's from Victorian era England- any references to Vicky etc. are about Queen Victoria  
> \- Jade and Hendrik are Native American and I hope I have depicted them accurately!! Please educate me on any mistakes I have made  
> \- Native American princesses aren't a thing! I had to change the draft referring to Jade as such because it's largely European title inaccurate in this case. NA "princesses" are usually Chief's daughters
> 
> **TW: referenced homophobia/ internalised homophobia** (specifically the line: "Derk said if anyone over here pulls that kinda shit, they should be hurled in the goddamn looney bin.")
> 
> This is **not** going to be a recurring theme, just minor historical context to show how much Erik and El are fighting for. Thank you for understanding :-)

El sucked at his cheek. 

The sounds of the bar pounded in his skull– raucous laughter, gambling men, overly flirtatious women. Not his place. Not his people. 

But one other man stuck out of place. 

Hair blacker than oil, carrying a gentle hue of blue, blood red bandana concealing the lower half of his face. He stood rigidly as a shorter man, presumably his friend, spun a tall tale, a woman on each arm. 

There was a strange sense of familiarity to his near blank expression, even with half his face covered. 

Longing. 

El knew that too well. He longed for a country he no longer knew, a family lost. 

The man reached out. His friend, oblivious or uncaring, sluggishly turned towards the bar, slamming the surface to get the barman's attention. 

His figure slumped. Why would someone, sleek, sharp and handsome, want the attention of a lumpy drunk? 

Eyes turning stormy, the man snuck out, shoving at the saloon door. 

El glanced at the cracked mirror on the wall, gently smoothing his loose curls over his head. He tugged his elegantly ruffled shirt forward, exposing more of his chest. Turned to the side, admired the tight look of his tailored trousers. Sucked his finger. Handsome. _Sexy._

He slinked out of the bar, jittery with excitement. 

Maybe he could make this stranger's day a little brighter. 

A light tap on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Sir, I was wondering if you would care for some company–" 

The gleaming, metal butt of a gun thrust against his jaw. 

"Don't fuckin' touch me!" 

El held his hands up. Bit his lip. 

"Why'd you follow me out here, huh? You fuckin' gay or somethin'?" 

"Would a straight man dress this well?" 

The man laughed, twirling his pistol. "I don't know what you lot get up to 'cross the pond but here… Derk said if anyone over here pulls that kinda shit, they should be hurled in the goddamn looney bin." 

El's eyes widened. "You love him… But he's disgusted by any thoughts of–" 

His gun fell to the sand with a soft thud.

He screamed at a stray shot flying past his ear. 

The man hurriedly scrambled in the sand for his gun. The bandana fell from his face. 

El sighed happily. He really was handsome– chiselled jaw, smooth skin… pretty mouth. 

Fear trembled in his hands, tingled in his pants. 

_Click._

"Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?" 

His taste for rogues and thieves was really going to get him killed one day. 

"A man that has nobody and nothing to lose," El breathed, skin prickling like cactus spines. 

"That so, huh?" he snarled, stalking him backwards. 

El's leg hit the post. 

Bare fingers tickled his cheek. El shuddered. Rough nails scraped up the back of his neck, clawed at his scalp. He gasped. Hands twisted and yanked at his hair. His back arched. 

Slowly, with half lidded eyes, they drifted together, lips just brushing. "Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I'll blow your brains straight outta your pretty little head, got it?" 

El hummed against his mouth, a wordless promise. 

The stranger's hand snuck down his back, squeezing him firmly. "You got a cute lil ass," he murmured, lips moist and glistening under the low light. 

El groaned. An embarrassingly loud sound. One he'd only ever heard from prostitutes when they took men into the back room. Artificial. Stupid.

He spat on the floor. "You like that, huh?" 

A humble, polite nod. 

His back slammed against the wood, a heady vibration juddering through his skull. Possessive hands ripped at his collar, sneaking down, searching for warmth in the cool desert evening. 

A button flew across the sand. 

El sighed through quivering lips. 

The harsh rip of fabric. 

The belt loops of his trousers tore against the force of leather pulled taught. 

"How do I fuckin' get this damn thing off?!" he cursed, squeezing El's wrist hard against the wood. 

He frowned. Another perfectly good set of clothes ruined by an amorous rogue. It wasn't as bad as when that highwaymen cut his silk shirt to ribbons, he supposed. 

"Let me." 

The cowboy sceptically released his grip, mouth twisting.

Trembling fingers released the belt from its cotton caging, a snake uncoiled. His trousers fell to his ankles. 

A smirk. Metal against his face. El poked his tongue against the gun. 

The cowboy tipped his head to the side. 

El took the butt into his mouth, groaning. 

He bit his lip, amused. "You've done this before." 

El slowly ran his tongue up the cool, sleek metal. "You haven't?" he said innocently, licking the tips of his fingers. 

He winced. A handful of his hair– yanked, held back against the wall. Gun back in its holster, the man's other hand traced down his back and cupped a cheek. A hard squeeze. 

"Show me," he muttered, mouth curling into a grin. 

El slid down the wall, fiery eyes holding his gaze. The cowboy yanked his belt off, pulled his zip open. Smirked. 

El returned the smile– sweetly, softly. Time to bring this cowboy to his knees. 

"What's your name, handsome?" he purred. 

The cowboy adjusted his hat, a shadow falling over his face. "Black fuckin' Mamba." 

His tongue flicked out, teasing the tip of his cock. A muffled groan. 

"Well _Black_ _Mamba,_ that's some snake you have." 

His hand came around the base, easing it into his mouth, just slow enough to frustrate the man above him. 

A curse. 

Hips thrust forward. His thrown head back against the wall. Trapped. 

El sighed, full to the brim, unbothered by his sudden movement. He rather liked it. 

The cowboy huffed. Drew back. 

"You're a freak." 

El hummed, circling his tongue around the shaft. "That's why you like me." 

The cowboy frowned. Picked a sticky strand of hair off his face. "Get up." 

El complied, offering a sulky pout. Men like him wanted power, to get a reaction. One he was unwilling to give. Better to tease him and push him to oblivion. 

It was more fun like that. 

His face met harsh wood. His underwear ripped from him. Silk– that was a shame. Hands pressed at his chest, searching. Ghosted over his nipple. He bit his lip. 

"Slut like you bound to have some slick on ya," he mumbled, hands sliding up his shirt. 

El laughed pointedly. Gazed back, cheek crushed against the wall. "Don't need it. I know you're not gonna last long, anyway." 

Bright white teeth clenched. "You little–" 

El giggled. "Little? _Please_. I'd be taller than you if you weren't wearing those rather lovely heeled boots–"

He grunted, the retort squeezed from his lips. Mamba crushed his body against his, cock pressing between his cheeks. 

He strained to look back, met with a heated glare. Fingers shoved into his mouth. 

His tongue flicked over the intruding digits. A groan. His lips suctioned around them, chest rising and falling with rhythm of his thrusts into his mouth. 

Mamba dragged his fingers out slowly, tugging at his lower lip, a trail of spit glistening on his fingertips. El glared back. Heat shared. 

Gloved hands cupped both of his cheeks, spreading him open. 

Anyone could walk out that bar right now, see exactly what Mamba was about to do to him. 

El smirked. 

He hoped they did. 

His breath juddered through clenched teeth. Fingers pressing against him. A jolt. He frowned. As if a little discomfort was going to stop him. He rocked back. Shot a defiant glare. 

A strangled noise. 

Mamba's hand clamped over his mouth. 

El's neck arched back. Mamba pressed two fingers in at once. Not very polite. But El's little lapse in control seemed to please him, spur him on. Grinning lips pressed to his face. 

A sharp burst of pain bloomed in his cheek. 

El pouted. He really was marking his face. The inconsiderate, roguish–

He panted harshly into his hand. Needy, greedy lips bit and sucked at his jaw, sloppily finding a rhythm with the thrust of his fingers. 

Nails scraped against wood. Splinters stung his skin. Blood beaded at his fingertips. El grinned, teeth digging into his lower lip. 

Hot, heavy breath pricked his neck. 

"Rough enough for ya, you spoilt lil rich slut?" 

El's lips formed an exaggerated frown. A pointless exercise, mouth hidden by the press of Mamba's hand. 

He didn't want a response. Just obedience. A compliance El was willing to give on account of that pretty face. 

Hot air shot through his nostrils. 

He didn't want this to end. 

It had been far too long. No one had ever fought for control like this. Mamba _wanted_ him. 

His body trembled with need. 

And he had no idea who El was. Where he came from. Free from the rigid ties of his past. There was no holding back– each thrust filled with reckless abandon. Fierce need. 

Fingers slipped out. Pinched him sharply. 

"You want it," he growled, crushing him harder against the wall. His eager cock pulsed against his entrance. 

El's breath stuttered out. Pulse thrumming through his head, his palms, his fingertips. His body softened, ready to surrender. 

"W-Wait–" he grumbled. 

He may like a little pain but being entered by a near dry cock would simply be torture. He shuddered. _Never again._

Mamba grunted. "What?" 

El slipped down, twisted between his legs. Grabbed his hips as if they were his own. The warmth of his cock clogged his senses, the hint of precum tingling on his tongue. Pride filled his chest. He really was close. 

Tears pricked his eyes. Hands grasped his hair, petted him roughly. Almost affectionate if he wasn't repeatedly shoving himself down his throat. 

Mamba's eyes squeezed shut. Nails scratched up El's scalp. 

El viciously pinched his hip. 

Like hell was he going to let him finish now. As sexy as it was to watch him unravel, and feel the heat of him on his tongue, he wanted _more_. 

Oh, and he was running out of breath. Desperately. A very human weakness he couldn't afford to show. 

Mamba hissed. Smacked him across the face. 

El rolled his eyes. Stupid stubborn cowboy. He patted his chest. Gestured to his mouth. 

Mamba's eyes widened, as if embarrassed. He quickly pulled out. 

El fell back against the wall, releasing slow, controlled pants. 

Mamba towered above him, panting softly. "Uh, I didn't realise you meant–" 

El's face pulsed with heat, drool on his chin. The bite, the smack, his _hair_ –

He really must look a mess. 

"It's not my fault he doesn't love you." 

Mamba snarled. " _What?_ " 

"I said: it's not my fault he doesn't love you," he sighed, casually wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "No need to take it out on me." 

Mamba coiled, ready to pounce. 

Calloused hands dragged him up by his hair, shoved him back against the wall. Rough wood scratched his cheek. 

El squirmed. 

Choked on his next breath. 

Filled with intense, spiking pleasure. A gorgeous stretch. A need to please. God, he missed this. It was liberating, being so thoroughly _used._ Feeling such anger surge through him. 

Free from the binds of high society. 

"Y-You think I'm pretty?" 

El bit his tongue. He craved his validation, the sweet words of a rogue. Ridiculous. Embarrassing. But true nonetheless. 

"Pretty fuckin' annoying," he spat, as if the words were poison. 

A groan. A hand thrust into his mouth. Filled. Entirely his, to use as he desired. 

Hot air brushed his cheek. 

El panted raggedly. 

Soft lips sucked at his neck. Bites, rough, hard, and sharp. Possessive. 

Mamba twisted his hands behind his back, binding them together so tightly it stung. His bandana. Before El could spit back a retort, he groaned, leather clad hand shoved back between his teeth. 

"You're all mine," he growled. "Stupid little mouthy whore. Can't answer back now you're stuffed _full._ " 

Pleasure burned in El's cheeks. He really was his. 

Tears stung his eyes. 

"You're gonna wish–" he shuddered behind him, "you never fuckin' followed me out here." 

El smiled around his fingers. Kicked his leg back. In a whirlwind, tumbled to the ground, Mamba falling down with him. 

Mamba snarled, shoving his shirt up and tearing his legs apart. 

His head hung above El's. "You're gonna pay for that."

El smirked, bound and held under in his weight. Exactly where he wanted to be. 

Mamba spat on his hands, running them liberally over his aching, leaking cock. 

One, sharp, cant of his hips. 

El cried out. Full. His teeth bore down on Mamba's neck, breaking skin. 

Another deadly thrust. 

This man was really trying to kill him. He didn't care if he did. This felt too good. The marks on his skin proof of pleasure. 

Mamba gripped his face with bruising fingers, thrusting wildly, hips juddering against his. Sharp blue eyes fixed on his. A smug grin. 

El gasped and groaned, the edge of his climax rippling at his fingertips, dug into crimson red fabric. He offered a heady smile. 

Mamba sighed, hot, heavy huffs of air dancing over El's face. Noses brushing. 

"Stupid, fuckin', _whore_ ," he groaned, thrusts growing feverish. 

"You're mean." El smiled meekly, body keening to Mamba's thrusts, control ebbing away. "I like that." 

A growl. A brutal buck of his hips. "And you're a brat." 

"Not my f-fault you look sexy when you're angry." 

El gasped. Heat building, building, building–

A gentle puff of breath ghosted his lips. "Huh." 

Hands resting either side of El's face, his lips shifted down. El sighed into the kiss, surrendering to his soft touches. A welcome treat. He really must be pleasing him. 

Slowly, gently, his hips rolled into El's, rippling together like ocean waves, water surging beneath the surface. El gasped and groaned, the slowing pace hypnotic. 

Lost in Mamba's rhythm. 

Charmed. 

"Oh my goodness, there's two fellas–!" 

A horrified screech. 

Mamba lifted his head. A scheming smile. El's saliva shone on his bruised lips. "Let's show 'em what we got, partner." 

El grinned, lips colliding with his with ferocity. 

Mamba crashed down, rolling over El and dragging them both to shore. 

El whined, cursed, screamed. 

Noises improper of a gentleman. 

Mamba seemed to like that, matching his noises with his own– louder– more debauched. 

That cowboy had a mouth on him. 

El wondered what else he could do with it. 

His numb hands desperately searched for purchase on the sandy ground. 

Mamba juddered above him. Yanked at his hair. Hissed through his teeth. 

Hot, loud, and obnoxious– El came on his shirt. Mamba burst inside him. Flopped over him. 

"Not… bad," he panted. 

"Take me with you," El murmured against his ear. "Ditch that bastard. Stay with me." 

Mamba shifted up. "Wha–" 

His eyes narrowed. Lips pursed. He glanced back at the bar. Then at El. 

He pushed off on his elbows. Barely sparing him a glance, he yanked his jeans up. Shakily grasped El's torn trousers. Dragged them up his legs. Pulled the knot binding his wrists down.

A semi-considerate lover. 

He strolled towards the saloon doors, casually chucking him his bandana. 

"Keep it." 

El swallowed the shards of glass in his throat. "What?" 

"I said keep it."

"But we–" 

"Had sex. Now fuck off." 

El glanced up at the man above him. 

"Please–" 

Mamba spat on the floor. "Don't you dare fuckin' follow me again." 

El sunk down to the ground, trousers half up.

Empty. 

* * *

El perched awkwardly on the bar stool, swirling a foul looking drink between his palms. Hardly champagne. It hurt a little, sitting on the hard stool, but not unpleasantly. Just in the way that he was looking at the man who was only staring at that awful drunk. 

Well, not all the time. He'd send him flustered glances. Brief flashes of vulnerability. 

El grit his teeth. Coward. 

Roughly, he set down his drink. Strolled over to the bar. Mamba stiffened. 

"What would you do, Erik?" his friend declared declared drunkenly. "If one o' them came up to you at the bar?" 

Erik. That was his name. Much softer than Black Mamba. Sweet. El smiled. 

Erik swallowed. Like he had a gun pointed at him. 

El smoothed his hair back. "Pardon me, Sir?" 

The man wheeled in on him. "Who in fuck's name are you? Why you talkin' strange?" 

"I'm from the Old Country. And I don't see the problem with being intimate with a man. In fact, I just had sex with one. The best sex of my life." 

Erik's jaw dropped. 

El stepped closer. "I have slept with some of the highest English nobility, and nothing, _Sir,_ nothing, quite compares to the feel of a cock. You ought to try it, might improve your manners."

Erik snorted. Then quickly covered his face. 

The man swung for him, a sloppy punch easily dodged. 

El adjusted the cuff of his shirt. Smug. 

He gasped, shoved up against the bar, held up by the scruff of his collar. El winced, desperately trying not to think about the awful stain those greasy hands would leave on his pristine, white shirt. 

The man grinned. Then tumbled to the ground. A resounding thump. 

Erik stood behind him, holding his fist. 

The man clumsily scrambled to his feet, sweeping beer glasses off the side. Glass smashed against the floor. 

"You!" he growled, jabbing at Erik. "You're in league with him. You're one of _them._ "

The rest of the bar halted their conversations, watching in a stunned silence. 

"Sock him!" 

El opened his mouth, ready to offer a retort. 

Erik grabbed El and kissed him hard, fast. 

A cacophony of gasps. 

Erik _kissed_ him. In front of the whole bar. 

"Let's go, partner." 

El's heart beat like thundering hooves as he was pulled out of the chaos of the bar. Erik hastily adjusted the saddle on his horse. 

"Get on, you stupid bitch!" 

El pouted. "I do have a name, you know." 

"Don't care. Get on the horse, princess." 

El glanced back at the bar. 

Erik's friend burst out. Two guns clutched. 

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" 

El winced, rough arms gripping his waist and thrusting him up onto the horse. Erik leapt on behind him. Dug his heel in. 

They bolted forwards. El lurched. Erik's arms came around his waist, reaching for the reins. 

El gave a nervous laugh. "Well, that was close–" 

Erik shoved him down, a bullet ringing over their heads. Adrenaline shook through El's body. Far too close. 

The steady rhythm of hooves shook beneath him. El screwed his eyes shut. Hands shaking. 

Then it sunk in. Erik had chosen _him_. Him.

The wind whistled in his ears. No more gunshots. 

Gently, Erik lifted off his back, hands brushing his sides soothingly. He nudged his face to El's. "It'll be okay. Just relax."

El sighed back into his embrace. 

"I'll protect you," he murmured, tugging at the reins. A soft chuckle. " _My_ stupid bitch." 

A warmth filled El's chest, melting into Erik's arms as they rode out into the pinked horizon.

 _His._

* * *

El grinned wearily. "Well, we did it! I'm not too enthused about shitting in a hole but, I suppose I'll just have to put up with it." 

He placed a hand to his forehead, gazing off into the wild, cactus strewn landscape. Nothing like the lush green rolling hills of his homeland. A different kind of beauty. The sun had just disappeared into the mountains, the night clear and bright with stars. 

He inhaled deeply. 

Freedom. 

Erik tied the horse to the edge of camp. "Mmph." 

Worry gnawed at the edge of El's mind. 

"What's wrong sweetheart?" 

Erik pointedly looked away, a tension setting his jaw. 

El gingerly approached him, reaching out a palm. 

"Don't fuckin' touch me!" 

El leapt back, stung. 

"Erik?" 

"Don't call me that. FUCK!" He kicked at a rock, wincing as his foot collided with hard stone.

El stepped back. His brows pinched. 

"Why did I let you do that?" Erik flung his pack on the ground. Shot him an icy glare. "Ruin my entire fuckin' life. Now I ain't got nobody, or nowhere to go! The one person in ma life HATES me. All coz I was horny and done fucked some whore outside the bar." 

The words seeped in like venom, poisoning his veins, aching in his heart. 

Black Mamba. 

It made sense. 

"Sorry," El said meekly. "It's not that bad, I'm sure we can…" 

"S'easy for you to say," Erik sneered, shoving at his chest. "You can just go back to your rich friends. Why don't you do that, huh? Fuck off back to fuckin' England." 

El's lip trembled. "I can't. My family are gone. Her Royal Majesty had them all slaughtered." 

Erik's eyes widened. 

"Allegedly. She exiled my grandfather before I was born, then this. Get rid of the competition. Very clever." 

"When–" 

"Two months." 

El shakily stepped forward. "So I saw you in the bar. You looked sad. I didn't want you to be sad so I approached you. Yes, I thought you were attractive… but it wasn't just about sex. There are other places I could've gone for that." 

Erik sucked at his cheek. Glanced away. 

"If you really don't want me, I'll go. I'm sorry I ruined your friendship. You just… deserve better. Better than him." El sighed, shoulders drooping. 

Erik swallowed. "You won't last five minutes out in the desert," he said lightly. "'Specially in that ridiculous outfit." 

"Glad you find that funny." El glared back, tears in his eyes. "You were the one who kissed me and dragged me out here." 

"Hey." Erik stepped in, hand closing around El's cheek. "I said I'd look after you. And I will. What's your name, sugar?" 

His name. He hadn't even told Erik his name. 

Nor had he asked. 

"Like that matters." 

"What," he mumbled, arms snaking around his waist, "you want me keep calling you bitch?" 

El groaned, biting his lip to hide a smile. 

"My bitch. My cute lil English bitch. Bowlcut bitch." 

"El," he mumbled, tears falling freely. "My name's El." 

"Okay, Ellie." His hand grazed the collar of his shirt. "Why don'tcha let me make it up to ya?"

El nodded shyly. 

Erik's hands came around his collar, slowly unfastening the buttons. Much more gentle than the first time. The cool night air tickled his chest. 

Maybe Erik just wanted his body– physical intimacy. But that didn't matter. 

He was _wanted._

* * *

El gasped, eyes squeezed shut. 

Pure, unadulterated _pleasure._

Well, except the growing ache in his arms. That was annoying. 

Erik grunted behind him, hands grasping his hips, thrusting steadily. 

El craned his neck back. "Excuse me? W-Would it be alright if I leant a– AH!" He bit his lip. "... A little on my elbows? Um, my wrists are a touch sore and…" 

Erik smirked down at him. He slammed his hips forward with lethal accuracy. 

El swallowed a whimper. 

"As I recall," he drawled, sliding a hand up El's shaking thigh, "this position was your idea, partner." 

"Yes, quite, because I didn't want sand up my…" He coughed. Then frowned. "That." 

"Prude." 

"Oh, you have a preference for sand up the arse, do you? Mm? Mmmmm…." El's eyes rolled into the back of his head. Why was he angry again? Could he ever be truly angry at someone who made him feel this good? 

Even if it was just sex. 

Erik tugged on his ponytail. "You're cute when you're grumpy. And yes, feel free to take whatever position you like, cutie. I'm all yours. Or, well, you're all _mine._ "

El smiled sweetly, waiting for him to take the cue– even outlaws understood signals like this. 

Erik sighed, pressing a begrudging kiss to his lips. 

"Let's get you more comfortable, sugar." 

Erik's arms scooped around his waist. Pulled him back up, into his chest. El hummed, content. 

Tender lips kissed along his cheek. He smiled. 

"How did you get this cute, mm? Who let such a cutie walk around, mm? Such a fuckable lil thing like you." 

El melted into his lap, sighing with each thrust. 

Erik's hand came sharply down. 

Fresh, hot pain. 

El squirmed. He gazed back at his partner, pouting, hips still grinding into his lap. 

"You don't like it when I smack you, baby?" 

El glared at him, deadpan: "Not when it's not hard enough." 

Erik scoffed. "Okay, partner. If you insist." 

* * *

Erik's heart thrummed against his cheek. His hand brushed El's jaw. 

The chill of the desert night rippled through the clumsily strewn sheets, the tent canvas hanging loosely above them. El sighed, snuggling into their shared warmth. 

"Cutie." 

El cracked a sleepy smile. "My arse hurts." 

"Oh? An' that's s'posed to be ma fault or somethin'?" Erik chuckled, hand slipping up his shirt, up his bare thighs. 

El hummed pleasantly, his lover's hand touching him idly in an intimate spot, soothing his frazzled edges. 

"Someone's gonna sleep well tonight." 

"Yeah, now I have a big, strong cowboy to protect me." 

Erik's breath huffed against his cheek. His hand came up to pet El's curls. 

"I won't let no harm come to ya. Swear it." He brushed a kiss to his cheek. "Put a bullet in ol' Vicky's head." 

El glanced up. Giggled. "You'd kill for me?" 

Erik smiled. "Course." 

El pouted. Sucked at his cheek. "How many people have you killed?" 

"You don't wanna know that."

El crawled over him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. "Oh, but I do." 

"Two. And it'll be three if you don't shut up." 

El scoffed, pulling away. He sat back on Erik's hips, arms folding. "That's not very nice." 

"Hey, I'd never hurt you." Erik's hands traced up his sides in slow circles. Under his shirt. "Bad joke. Mm, would you like some new clothes, sugar? Since I ripped all yours." 

El dove back down, suddenly intrigued. "Uh, yes!"

Erik gave a smug grin. "Wonderful. How 'bout I steal ya some?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed! Please leave a kudos if you did, it means the _whole of Erdrea_ to know people like what I've written :3
> 
> Also... I dreamed up a plot for these two so it is... A possibility that I will write more <3 hehe! Depends on how much love this gets! Coming up should be... Sylvia's bar and some lesbian cowboys 
> 
> Oh and Black Mamba is a reference to Kill Bill! ;)


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